


Anticipation

by charm_murphy25



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Drinking Games, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 15:39:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9909101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charm_murphy25/pseuds/charm_murphy25
Summary: An unlikely relationship blossoms between two supposed enemies, instigated by Harry, and denied by Draco, who isn't gay. He just happens to find Potter attractive. Gryffindors, drinking games and repressed feelings are not a good mix.





	1. A mediocre introduction

Sometimes you need to cut people out of your life. Sometimes friends can be draining, unsupportive or generally make you unhappy, which is why you sometimes need to take the initiative to ditch them. The Slytherin common room and his old house associates were tied with too many bad memories from the war, and the years of scheming that preceded it. 

Just like most evenings, Draco would take a walk around the Hogwarts grounds in a futile attempt to clear his head. At least if he were to let his feelings loose, nobody would be there to see him.

“Malfoy? Is, is that you?” came an all too familiar voice from behind him. ‘ _Keep the peace_ ’, eighth years had been told, something about upholding house unity. Deciding to avoid any more unnecessary violence, Draco decided to face the voice.

“Potter.” He spat vehemently, making it clear that he did not want to be in this conversation.

“Malfoy? Have you been crying?” 

“So what if I have? Why should that concern you?” Potter seemed taken back by the sudden asperity, but continued to edge closer to Draco, who could no longer move away as his back was against a tree.

“Malfoy,” Harry whispered, his mouth inches away from Draco’s neck, “why can’t we just get along? I would’ve thought that after everything that’s happened between us-”

“Piss off, Potter! I come out here to be alone and I don’t need to be- I don’t want you too- ugh.” Malfoy sighed exasperatedly, jaw clenched and eyes full of tears. His throat was burning and he feared that if he spoke again he would start crying. He hated crying in front of people, and off all the people to find him in this state, it had to be Potter, perfect potter with his obnoxious hair and his dashing eyes and wonderful a-

“Malfoy?”

Still hesitant to talk, he simply raised his eyebrows. 

“I can tell that you want to be alone, and I get that, but-”

“Just leave me alone, okay?! I know what you’re doing, Potter, trying to make yourself seem like such a saint, helping the depressed ex-Death Eater, but I don’t want your help, okay? I need to be alone and…” Malfoy covered his eyes with his hand, fingers pressing into his temples. “You don’t know, what it was like, for me, so don’t act like you understand me…” was all he could say, between sniffs and shaking breaths. Memories of the past flooded back, causing tears to fall down his face, and before he knew it, he was a ball on the floor, sobbing violently. Potter hated him, so why did he have an arm around him, why was he whispering gentle words of comfort, why was he being so compassionate to a boy who had given him nothing but grief?

  
That night was, admittedly, a strange one. Draco had opened up to, and spilled his heart out to Potter, his arch nemesis, and had ended up spending the night in his bed. Of course, it was strictly for comfort purposes. Potter had wrapped him in a blanket, and held him whilst he sobbed. It was… nice. Draco had never really felt comfort before, nor had he ever opened up to someone. With Potter it was just so… easy. He couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was about scarhead that made him seem so trustworthy. Nonetheless, it was the happiest night Draco had had in a while, despite the fact he was crying through most of it.


	2. The plot thickens

Waking up the morning after a mental breakdown is always a strange sensation, sort of like the calm after a storm. It's even stranger when you're in a bed that's not yours with someone that, 24 hours ago, was your worst enemy. Well, Draco wanted him to think that anyway. He kept walls up to defend himself from being hurt, which was what he'd always done. He hadn't felt happiness since he was a child, and sadness had faded into a perpetual numbness. Most people would argue that that was no way to live, but it worked for Draco.  
  
What he couldn't comprehend, however, was how easily Potter could snake his way past those walls. He had no reason to trust, or even like Potter! Apart from the fact that he saved his life once. Nonetheless, Draco didn't want Potter to get the wrong idea, to think that they could become friends and, Merlin forbid, something more. It was a well known fact that Potter was gay, but Draco certainly wasn't, although the fact that he was currently little spoon to the boy who lived probably didn't back this up well.  
  
It wasn't that Draco didn't enjoy the company, it was nice to feel warmth and protection for once; the Slytherin dorms were freezing and full of hostility towards him. Potter was in nothing except underwear, whereas Draco was wrapped in Potter's dressing gown, which was actually very soft. Slowly, he freed himself from the warm embrace that encompassed him and began to get dressed, cautious not to wake anyone in the dormitory; he knew he didn't stand a chance against a group of angry, fatigued Gryffindors with a prejudice against the Malfoy name.  
  
A clock on the wall showed that it was nearly 7am, but as there was no lessons today, students were able to sleep in. Taking full advantage of this, Draco walked over to his shoes unnoticed by anyo-  
  
"Malfoy?" Potter yawned, stretching. "Why are you leaving so soon? Come back to bed, love."  
  
Utterly horrified at what he had been addressed as, Draco was speechless, gawping and glaring in Potter, who was becoming dangerously close. And before he could object, Potter had pulled him by the tie and began kissing him! Kissing! It wasn't exactly a bad kiss, quite the opposite, actually, and Draco didn't object, until Potter began touching his arse.  
  
Malfoy landed a sharp but gentle slap on Potter's cheek, and wormed his way out of yet another embrace. "I don't know what you're playing at, P, Potter, but I, I'm-" becoming increasingly flustered and not wanting to continue the conversation, he stormed away, his patented shoes pattering loudly  at the stone floor behind him.  
  
~~~  
  
Draco had the tendency to overthink things, and Potter had not helped. Why had Potter done that? And why had he kissed back? Why did he enjoy it? Draco was despairing and unsure what to do with himself-  
  
"Draco roams the halls of Hogwarts,  
Brooding in despair.  
He wants to be popular again,  
_Or as invisible as air._ "  
  
Peeves the poltergeist swooped down, repeatedly bleating his made up tune.  
  
Draco snorted and continued walking towards no particular destination in a hurry that would suggest his arrival was well anticipated. Why had he let his guard down? He had made himself vulnerable. That always seemed to happen whenever Potter was around. Their duel in sixth year that had left him bleeding on the floor, the time Potter had saved him from the fire, the time he had opened up to Potter. He was vulnerable in all three of those circumstances, but Potter had no power over the third. He chose to open up, to tell him everything, but the most surprising thing was, he seemed to understand. Potter was sympathetic and kind, instead of hostile and cold. How did he deserve that? When he had caused Potter nothing but grief? Why was he being kind?  
  
Suddenly he was outside, greeted with a gust of fresh, bitter air. The grass was dotted with students, enjoying the spring warmth. Of course, Potter would be among them. He was sat with Weasley and the Granger girl, though sprang to life at the sight of Draco, and began to run towards him.  
  
"Malfoy!"  
  
Draco increased his pace, more and more until he was running, but Potter was too fast, and tackled him to the ground.  
  
"We have to stop meeting like this." Scarhead grinned smugly.  
  
"Potter, you're the one- pinning me to-" Draco realised that argument was futile. "What do you want?"  
  
"Gryffindor are having a house party, we think you should come."  
  
"Please, the Gryffindors all hate me. Everyone does, actually. I'll probably just-"  
  
"Stay outside all night brooding? Come on, Malfoy, that's no way to live! How about we make a deal?"  
  
"Fine. I'm listening." He sighed, rolling his eyes.  
  
"You only have to stay for the first ten minutes, see if you like it, and if you don't, well, we can have fun somewhere else."  
  
Malfoy squirmed uncomfortably beneath Potter, attempting to cross his legs. "Get off of me, Potter, and We will not be 'having fun' somewhere else."  
  
Harry slowly got up, eyeing up Malfoy as he did. "Happy to see me?" He asked jokingly, looking at Malfoy's crotch.  
  
"Just, ugh, stop smirking will you. And I'm never happy to see you." Draco crossed his legs, successfully this time, and folded his arms.  
  
"10pm, in the common room, the password is-"  
  
"I am certainly not going into a room full of testosterone ridden Gryffindors alone, thank you very much. You can come and find me, same spot and same time you found me yesterday. Now stop staring at me."  
  
Draco stormed off, away from an extremely satisfied Potter, who's smirk had grown into a full grin, lighting up his whole face. Malfoy also felt, for the first time in so long, a genuine smile breaking across his face.


	3. Drinking games and aggressive snogging

Of course Draco didn’t spend the entire day eagerly anticipating Potter’s invitation. His day wasn’t revolving around Potter, thank you very much. For example, he went to the library (where he stared at a closed book for an hour), went for a walk around the school (hoping to run into Potter), and relaxed in his dormitory (where he spent three hours looking for something to wear). Draco’s mother had requested that, should Draco decide to stay for the so called “eighth year”, that he would get his own room to avoid confrontation from ex- peers. McGonagall was very understanding, and happily complied.

Stupid Potter hadn’t specified what kind of party the Gryffindors were having. He didn’t want to seem like a slob, so decided to wear a suit, mossy green shirt and dress shoes. He did, after all, want to make an impression. Mainly on Potter, he didn’t care about what the rest of the attendees thought. Would there be drinks there already, or should he bring his own? He wasn’t an alcoholic or anything, he just happened to have multiple bottles of firewhiskey and other strong spirits dotted around his room. Four bottles should be enough for a social gathering.

Draco ventured into the great outdoors as the sun began to set, the same as he would any other day, although today he was armed with a bag of alcohol. The crisp air of evening was refreshing, but didn’t do much to combat his nerves. What if Potter tried to kiss him again? Would he kiss back?

“Malfoy?”

Draco froze, not wanting to turn around. Why had he agreed to the party? It was a stupid decision. Why was Potter’s face now so close to his neck? Draco quickly spun around in order to avoid another kiss, because he wasn’t gay. Obviously. Potter looked good, great, actually. He was in jeans that were tight in all the right places, a white shirt that was practically see through, and a slim black tie. Draco wondered if it was the moonlight that made him look so good, causing him to radiate good looks, or maybe the dorky smile, or the messy hair- did he even own a hairbrush?

“What’s in the bag? I don’t suppose it’s a gift for me?” Scarhead cooed, smirking.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Potter. It’s just something to make the night more bearable.”

Potter peeked into the bag, visibly amused. “Four bottles of firewhiskey, ooh, and some champagne, how fancy.”

“Well I am a Malfoy.”

“Right, and rich people use champagne like water, how could I forget?”

“Just take me to your stupid party before I start drinking prematurely, Potter. I’m already   
losing the will to live.”

~~~  
(Half an hour later)

Draco hadn’t the faintest idea what had happened, but had already had the majority of a bottle of firewhiskey, and Potter had managed to persuade him to participate in some drinking games. It occurred to Draco that the only reason he was playing this game was to impress Potter, which was true, but he was too drunk to complain.

Draco was sat in a circle with Potter, Weasley, Granger, Longbottom, and three other Gryffindors he didn’t recognise, who all voted on a game of Never Have I Ever. Each started with ten fingers and some sort of alcoholic drink, which they would have to drink whenever they put down a finger. Draco’s eyes were fixed closely on Potter’s hands, he didn’t care about any of the others.

The generic ‘Never Have I Ever had sex’ was first, asked by Potter. Everyone in the group giggled slightly as they took a shot and put down one finger, everyone except Malfoy. Potter simply smirked, but the rest of the group looked completely flabbergasted. Apparently Pansy had decided to spread a rumor that they had hooked up in sixth year. Disgusting, but of course Parkinson would do something like that.

Other questions, usually sexual, were asked, until the first person was out: that person was Potter. Draco, on the other hand, still had all 10 fingers up, which surprised most of the Gryffindors, and apparently humoured Potter, as he kept pulling his stupid half smirk/half pout face. No longer wanting to look at Potter, Draco decided to have some more firewhiskey, but heard scarhead snicker when he brought the bottle to his lips.

“What’s so funny, Potter?” Draco snarled before bringing the bottle back to his lips and taking a long gulp.

“I had no idea you were so innocent! Now I feel bad for, well-” (drunken giggling, resulting in a furious and suspicious glare from Draco) “-Don’t you guys think he’s adorable when he’s angry?”

“Oh shut up. And Malfoys are not adorable, thank you very much.” Draco could feel his face burning and he was becoming increasingly flustered.

“Oi, Harry, Malfoy,” The Weasley slurred, “Wouldn’t, uh, well, ‘Mione said we should-”

“Well, what Ron is trying to say is, well, I thought we should play Seven Minutes in Heaven, and- stop it Ron- and”

“Look Granger I don’t-”

  
“Shut it, Malfoy,” Harry laughed, “Let her finish.”

Granger giggled and continued. “Thank you, Harry. Anyway, since Harry lost that game, and Malfoy won, you two should play.”

And before Draco knew it, Potter was dragging him by the tie into a smaller and empty room, adjacent to the main part of the common room. The polished mahogany floor was decorated with rugs that were, in Draco’s opinion, incredibly tacky. By the roaring fireplace, which was the room’s only source of light, there was a sofa; other than that, and an obnoxious Gryffindor crest, the room was empty.

Draco was slightly drunk, but not too drunk to see Potter walking towards him. “Potter, what are you-”   
Potter shoved him against the wall and, before he could object again, began kissing him. Long, passionate kisses, and Draco could feel himself melting into Potter’s arms as he ran his fingers through his, surprisingly silky, hair. He could feel Potter’s heart beating against his own, and couldn't help whimpers escaping his lips.

Then they were on the sofa, Draco thought that Potter, who was now shirtless, must've picked him up, but he had no memory recall of it. Potter’s kiss was intoxicating, a blissful mix of lust and champagne: who knew a Potter could taste so luxurious? His hair was now a mess, his shirt was sticking to his sweaty body, but he didn't care. He wanted more, more of Potter, who was know giving him a love bite. More whimpers and moans escaped Draco’s mouth, which scarhead seemed to love.

He ran his hand down Potter’s abs (and continued moving it down), and he seemed to shiver with delight at Draco’s touch. The fact that he was straddling and snogging the boy who lived didn't mean he was gay. Obviously. Draco leaned forward until his lips were practically brushing Potter’s ear. “Scared, Potter?”

Potter smirked and sat up. “You wish, Malfoy.”

Potter then proceeded to pin Malfoy down against the soft cushions, and began kissing him with a mix of lust and passion. He wanted to pull Potter closer, to make sure that he didn't leave, but Potter had his arms pinned against the top of the sofa.

“Guys-” Weasley yelled as he walked in, “the seven minutes is u- BLOODY HELL HARRY! GUYS, THEY’RE HAVING SEX!”

The two boys both sat up as Hermione walked into the room and whispered to Ron what Draco could barely make out as ‘You owe me five galleons’ before sauntering away, looking satisfied with herself.

Potter also looked incredibly satisfied, and Draco was in a state of ecstasy which left him immobile, or he had blacked out. All he remembered was leaving that room in Potter’s arms and waking up in Potter’s bed.

 


End file.
